


All That I'll Ever Need

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Series: Ficlets [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Fitz's POV, Fluff, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime in the future, there is FitzSimmons, an Italian villa, and moonlight.</p><p>A slightly longer drabble inspired by the song "Tenerife Sea."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That I'll Ever Need

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on tumblr in response to this post: http://agentverbivore.tumblr.com/post/100796762173/ok-im-dying-to-write-something-for-fitzsimmons

Fitz stood alone at the edge of the villa overlooking Lake Como, hands shoved into his tuxedo trouser pockets to stave off the cold for a little longer. The moon sparkled quietly off the Italian lake, a small island silhouetted just across from where he stood, and he shivered at the memory of a very different expanse of water. The one that had almost taken everything from him. The thought triggered a small tremor in his left hand, and he squeezed his fingers into a fist, knowing that the years had solidified his recovery but that sometimes memories made him worse. He wasn’t going to let tonight be one of those nights, though - tonight was far too important for that. 

Other than the noises of the high society gala echoing out from the villa’s ballroom, the countryside was quiet, and he almost doubted whether or not he needed to be guarding the entrance. It was a low risk spot, he knew, otherwise Coulson would have given it to someone with actual field training, but the stillness was making him impatient. Just as that thought passed through his head, though, a sharp scream from the direction of the back garden broke the silence, and Fitz’s blood ran cold. He was running over the artful cobblestone path before he consciously knew what he was doing, forgetting about his post as he focused on the one thing that he did know: Jemma was supposed to be guarding the garden’s back gate. 

Sculpted topiary flew past him as he skidded around corners, his dress shoes providing no grip and he went sliding into more than one wall of leaves. Finally, he broke through to the open area where Jemma should be standing but was nowhere to be found. Panic truly gripped him then as he rounded the covered pavilion, calling her name, voice breaking slightly on the last syllable. 

“Fitz!”

He whipped around to see Jemma step out from behind a thick tree, garnet dress almost the color of blood in the moonlight, followed by Trip, also in a tuxedo but holding an alarmingly large rifle. 

“We heard someone coming, but didn’t know it was you,” Trip offered as an explanation, but Fitz barely heard it because he strode straight over to Jemma to sweep her up in his arms. She made a small _oof_  of surprise but wrapped her arms around his neck automatically as he pressed his cheek to the side of her head, snugging her closely into his chest to subdue the tremors that threatened yet again. 

“I heard you scream,” Fitz managed to get out, willing his heart to stop pounding.

Trip sighed, sounding almost bashful when he spoke. “Yeah, uh, that was my bad. I thought Simmons heard me coming, but - “

“You’re trained to be quiet, Trip,” Jemma said over Fitz’s shoulder, and he could almost hear her rolling her eyes as she did. “You could have at _least_  called out a greeting.”

“Hey, I said I’m sorry,” Trip replied, presumably laughing at the look she was giving him.

“You scared me half to death,” Fitz murmured into Jemma’s hair, and she held him more tightly. 

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

After a few moments of silence, Trip cleared his throat and Fitz reluctantly released Jemma, grabbing her hand as a compromise. “I came over because we’re to stand down for the moment - the happy couple is chasing down a lead a few villas over, and Skye’s working on their computer system.”

Jemma tsked. “They _do_  realize that they have a whole hall full of people waiting for them to return to their reception, don’t they?” 

Trip grinned, shouldering his rifle. “Don’t seem too bothered by it.”

“Honestly, we shouldn’t be surprised,” Fitz said, shrugging. “Course those two couldn’t have a normal, um, wedding.”

“But abandoning your own wedding to chase after two Hydra…” Jemma trailed off and chuckled. “No, you’re right. It wouldn’t be quite so them, otherwise.”

“And I think May was looking forward to ditching her heels,” Trip joked. “Anyway, they don’t know when we’ll be able to head back, so we’re supposed to wait here for further instructions.” He angled his rifle at the gate Jemma had been guarding. “I’ve got this perimeter, you guys can wander back to the water, if you want.”

Fitz gave Trip a grateful nod, which he returned with an unsubtle smirk, and then tugged Jemma along with him towards the garden’s far edge, where a low wall looked over the lake. As Fitz continued to hold her hand, thumb stroking over her soft skin, his heart started pounding again but this time for a completely different reason. 

They stood next to each other in peaceful silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company and the scenery. In the years of the pod’s aftermath, Fitz had become quieter, learning that sometimes there was just as much to be found in silence as in conversation. It was in the silences that they learned to love each other again, finding new ways to speak that didn’t always require words or pained confessions. 

Tonight required words, though, Fitz knew, so he made himself pull her around to meet his gaze - but Jemma spoke before he could. “Your eyes always reminded me of lake water, you know.” He gave her a bemused frown, and she flushed pink under the moonlight. “They’re - well, they’re very clear. Not quite dark enough to be the ocean…” She faltered, and lifted the hand he wasn’t holding up to her neck. “It sounded better in my head. Your eyes are truly fascinating, though, with that striking pigmentation… Much more interesting than any silly old lake or sea,” she finished, rambling only slightly as she moved a hand to his cheek.

Warmth bloomed in Fitz’s chest, then, a feeling so forceful and strong that he blurted out what he’d intended to ask back at May and Coulson’s reception, before they called in the mission: “Marry me.” Jemma’s mouth dropped straight open and Fitz winced, feeling his ears redden. “Shite. That wasn’t - I meant to, uh, say… I mean that we -“ He could feel the words slipping away from him again, and that his frustration was making it worse.

“Yes."

Fitz shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to work past the pounding in his ears to grasp at what he’d meant to say. "No, wait, just give me -"

"I said yes, Fitz,” Jemma interrupted again, and he opened his eyes to see her smiling blindingly up at him, one longer strand of hair curling enchantingly around her neck, pale skin shining mutedly in the water’s reflection. 

“What?"

She laughed then, and curved her arms around his neck. "Yes, I want to marry you."

He still wasn't quite caught up, the moment having happened too quickly and joy blinding his normally much-faster thought processes. "I had a whole - thing, worked out -"

Jemma tsked, shaking her head. "You can tell me later. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

Now _that_ Fitz could do. So, giving up on his plan entirely, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers over and over again, the distinct and familiar taste of her slowly erasing his nerves as he realized that he’d finally asked and Jemma had _said yes_. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling against her mouth, reaching up to curl one hand around her jaw and tugging her closer to him with the other.

When he broke away, still smiling, Fitz leaned his forehead against hers, just breathing in the moment before opening his eyes to watch hers shine back at him. "I’m so in love with you,” he whispered.

Laughing again, she sighed happily, her cheeks slightly flushed from his kisses. "Not nearly as much as I am with you."

Rolling his eyes, he pulled away, but not far enough away that either of them had to move their arms. "It just _has_ to be a, uh, a contest with you, doesn’t it?"

Smoothing a rogue curl off his forehead, Jemma hummed in agreement. "Yes. And I’ve got you, so I always win.” Then she kissed him again, and Fitz gave in, letting their tongues and lips do a very different kind of talking for a while. If this was Jemma’s version of winning, after all, Fitz supposed he didn’t mind so much. 


End file.
